I steer us toward the baby section without really thinking about it. Just naturally gravitating toward the tiny clothes and impossibly small shoes.
Julie's talking about the new barista she hired, complaining about espresso machine maintenance, when she suddenly stops.
"Why are we in the baby section?"
I'm holding a onesie that says "I'm new here." It's adorable.
"Emma." Julie's voice changes. "Why are we looking at baby clothes?"
"They're cute?"
"You hate babies. You once told me they're 'sticky and loud.'"
"I never said that."
"You absolutely said that. At Lindsay's baby shower. While holding her nephew."
"He was sticky!"
Julie grabs my shoulders. "Emma Dawson, why are we in the baby section?"
I hold up the onesie. "I thought this was funny."
"It's hilarious. Why do you care?"
I put the onesie back. Pick up another one. This one says "Daddy's Drinking Buddy."
"That one's inappropriate for an infant," Julie observes.
"Miles would love it."
"Why would Miles—" She stops. Her eyes go wide. "Oh my god."
"What?"
"OH MY GOD."
"Julie—"
"YOU'RE PREGNANT!"
Several nearby shoppers turn to stare. I grab Julie's arm and pull her behind a display of baby monitors.
"Could you maybe not announce it to the entire store?"
"YOU'RE PREGNANT!" she whisper-screams. "That's why you've been sick! That's why you won't drink wine! That's why you looked green at the exhibition!"
"The town thinks I'm dying, Julie. They think I have cancer."
"Because you've been acting like you're dying! But you're just PREGNANT!" She pulls me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe. "Oh my god, Emma! This is amazing! When did you find out? How far along? Does Miles know? Wait, of course Miles knows, you're looking at baby clothes together?—"
"Miles isn't here."
"Right. Girl time. But he knows?"
"He knows. My brothers know. Maggie knows. You're the fourth person I've told."
"Fourth?" Julie pulls back, mock-offended. "Your brothers found out before me?"
